safe behind that ice. In a lot of ways, I’ve lived like I’ve still had that ice in front of me—a shield, a protection . . . but with you—you make me put the ice down; you melt it. And I’m alive again.”
She shook her head “It’s the Lord; He ’s doing this for you. Not me.”
“It is God through you, Sarah King, working through you because you permit it. Thank you.”
She studied him, visibly weighing his words. Finally, she quietly said, “ Gern gschehne —you’re welcome.”
The bang of the screen door caused them both to start as Mrs. King came down the back porch steps with a faint frown.
“Sarah, are you finished?”
“ Jah , Mamm . I’m done.” She did not meet his intense look. “For now.”
S he watched the doctor go around the back of the house after he mentioned going on a promised call, until she realized that Mamm had spoken to her.
“I’m sorry, Mamm —what is it?”
“I just hope that you are using wisdom in your doings with the doctor, Sarah. Don’t forget what Father told you.”
“I know, Mamm ,” Sarah spoke, hoping her eyes would not betray her thoughts, then immediately regretting the deception. “What did you want me for?”
Mamm frowned but went on. “I asked Mrs. Bustle if she might need some help dusting and cleaning, and she said that she ’d be grateful. Are you willing to help?”
“ Ach , jah , certainly.”
“I’ll get the boys to muck out the barns. I don’t know what was in Mr. Fisher’s head, but it had little to do with his farm.”
Sarah said nothing, thinking of the anger in Matthew Fisher’s eyes at the stand.
Mamm patted her arm. “Come along, child. I didn’t mean to make you think of unhappy things. Let’s just help Mrs. Bustle.”
Sarah nodded and followed Mamm indoors. Parts of the house were indeed still in a muddle. Sarah got a brown bag and began to gather newspapers from the floor of a still-cluttered room off the kitchen. The various ads for clothing or fast food stared up at her, and she tried not to look too hard as she rolled the papers to be burned later. There was no doubt that working at the stand had made her more observant of the Englisch ways of dress and their mannerisms, and sometimes she found a particular pair of shoes or a blouse that a woman customer was wearing to be very attractive. And very worldly, she reminded herself.
She thought it odd that the Fishers took in such papers, for normally the Budget was the only major newspaper read in nearly all Amish communities. Still, there must have been a reason. She went into the kitchen, found a dry rag, and set to dusting the hardwood furniture that the Fishers had left behind, all the while feeling a tingling burn in the palm where the doctor had kissed her hand. Her hands had been dirty, but he ’d kissed her as though the earth was part of her, and somehow, she took this as a sincere compliment. It was not one of words but one that acknowledged in some way her oneness with the land, the gift of the Lord. And she felt that it was the closest she had ever let anyone come to seeing her true heart, the one that loved the growing things yet worshipped the Creator of them all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Bustle ’s loud cry. Both Mamm and Sarah ran into the kitchen to find the elderly woman perched atop the kitchen table.
“Another rat?” Mamm asked.
“No . . . it’s the cat,” she stammered. “It’s got something there that’s . . . not quite dead!” She shrieked once more, then pressed her hands to her quivering lips.
Sarah went over to the cat and bent down. “I don’t think he means to hurt it; I think he ’s bringing it to us.” She opened the cat’s mouth and took out the squeaking item. “ Ach , Mamm , look—it’s a baby bat.”
Mrs. Bustle moved as if to faint and Mrs. King caught her, hastily spritzing her face with the water bottle she ’d been using to clean with. Mrs. Bustle came to immediately.
“Oh, Mrs. King,
She shook her head “It’s the Lord; He ’s doing this for you. Not me.”
“It is God through you, Sarah King, working through you because you permit it. Thank you.”
She studied him, visibly weighing his words. Finally, she quietly said, “ Gern gschehne —you’re welcome.”
The bang of the screen door caused them both to start as Mrs. King came down the back porch steps with a faint frown.
“Sarah, are you finished?”
“ Jah , Mamm . I’m done.” She did not meet his intense look. “For now.”
S he watched the doctor go around the back of the house after he mentioned going on a promised call, until she realized that Mamm had spoken to her.
“I’m sorry, Mamm —what is it?”
“I just hope that you are using wisdom in your doings with the doctor, Sarah. Don’t forget what Father told you.”
“I know, Mamm ,” Sarah spoke, hoping her eyes would not betray her thoughts, then immediately regretting the deception. “What did you want me for?”
Mamm frowned but went on. “I asked Mrs. Bustle if she might need some help dusting and cleaning, and she said that she ’d be grateful. Are you willing to help?”
“ Ach , jah , certainly.”
“I’ll get the boys to muck out the barns. I don’t know what was in Mr. Fisher’s head, but it had little to do with his farm.”
Sarah said nothing, thinking of the anger in Matthew Fisher’s eyes at the stand.
Mamm patted her arm. “Come along, child. I didn’t mean to make you think of unhappy things. Let’s just help Mrs. Bustle.”
Sarah nodded and followed Mamm indoors. Parts of the house were indeed still in a muddle. Sarah got a brown bag and began to gather newspapers from the floor of a still-cluttered room off the kitchen. The various ads for clothing or fast food stared up at her, and she tried not to look too hard as she rolled the papers to be burned later. There was no doubt that working at the stand had made her more observant of the Englisch ways of dress and their mannerisms, and sometimes she found a particular pair of shoes or a blouse that a woman customer was wearing to be very attractive. And very worldly, she reminded herself.
She thought it odd that the Fishers took in such papers, for normally the Budget was the only major newspaper read in nearly all Amish communities. Still, there must have been a reason. She went into the kitchen, found a dry rag, and set to dusting the hardwood furniture that the Fishers had left behind, all the while feeling a tingling burn in the palm where the doctor had kissed her hand. Her hands had been dirty, but he ’d kissed her as though the earth was part of her, and somehow, she took this as a sincere compliment. It was not one of words but one that acknowledged in some way her oneness with the land, the gift of the Lord. And she felt that it was the closest she had ever let anyone come to seeing her true heart, the one that loved the growing things yet worshipped the Creator of them all.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Bustle ’s loud cry. Both Mamm and Sarah ran into the kitchen to find the elderly woman perched atop the kitchen table.
“Another rat?” Mamm asked.
“No . . . it’s the cat,” she stammered. “It’s got something there that’s . . . not quite dead!” She shrieked once more, then pressed her hands to her quivering lips.
Sarah went over to the cat and bent down. “I don’t think he means to hurt it; I think he ’s bringing it to us.” She opened the cat’s mouth and took out the squeaking item. “ Ach , Mamm , look—it’s a baby bat.”
Mrs. Bustle moved as if to faint and Mrs. King caught her, hastily spritzing her face with the water bottle she ’d been using to clean with. Mrs. Bustle came to immediately.
“Oh, Mrs. King,
Similar Books
